The sun was up long before the royal and illustrious party dispersed. The busy children of industry, who saw the Queen and her equipage sweep by them along the Western Road, must have been perplexed with attempts at guessing at the causes of her Majesty being so early abroad, in so wayworn a guise. The last thing they could then have conjectured was the adventure of the night—the scene at Hampton Court, the flight of the son with his wife, the pursuit of the royal mother with her two daughters, the occurrence at St. James’s—or, indeed, any of the incidents of the stirring drama that had been played out.
From the hour when royalty had been suddenly aroused to that at which the Queen arrived at Hampton Court Palace—eight in the morning, George II. had troubled himself as little with conjecturing as his subjects. When the Queen detailed to him all that had passed, he poured out the usual amount of paternal wrath, and of the usual quality. He never was nice of epithet, and least of all when he had any to bestow upon his son. It was not spared now, and what was most liberally given was most bitter of quality.
Meanwhile, both prince and princess addressed to their Majesties explanatory notes in French, which explained nothing, and which, as far as regards the prince’s notes, were in poor French and worse spelling. Everything, of course, had been done for the best; and the sole regret of the younger couple was, that they had somehow, they could not guess how or wherefore, incurred the displeasure of the King and Queen. To be restored to the good opinion of the latter was, of course, the one object of the involuntary offenders’ lives. In short, they had had their way; and, having enjoyed that exquisite felicity, they were not reluctant to pretend that they were extremely penitent for what had passed.
The displeasure of Caroline and her consort at the unfeeling conduct of Frederick was made known to the latter neither in a sudden nor an undignified way. It was not till the 10th of September that it may be said to have been officially conveyed to the prince. On that day the King and Queen sent a message to him from Hampton Court, by the Dukes of Grafton and Richmond and the Earl of Pembroke, who faithfully acquitted themselves of their unwelcome commission at St. James’s. The message was to the effect, that ‘the whole tenor of the prince’s conduct for a considerable time had been so entirely void of all real duty, that their Majesties had long had reason to be highly offended with him; and, until he withdrew his regard and confidence from those by whose instigation and advice he was directed and encouraged in his unwarrantable behaviour to his Majesty and the Queen, and until he should return to his duty, he should not reside in a palace belonging to the King, which his Majesty would not suffer to be made the resort of those who, under the appearance of an attachment to the prince, fomented the divisions which he had made in his family, and thereby weakened the common interest of the whole.’ Their Majesties further made known their pleasure that ‘the prince should leave St. James’s, with all his family, when it could be done without prejudice or inconvenience to the princess.’ His Majesty added, that ‘he should, for the present, leave the care of his grand-daughter until a proper time called upon him to consider of her education.’ In consequence of this message, the prince removed to Kew on the 14th of September.
The King and Queen now not only treated their son with extraordinary severity, and spoke of him in the coarsest possible language, but they treated in like manner all who were suspected of aiding and counselling him. Their wrath was especially directed against Lord Carteret, who had at first deceived them. That noble lord censured, in their hearing, a course of conduct in the prince which he had himself suggested, and, in the hearing of the heir-apparent, never failed to praise. When their Majesties discovered this double-dealing, and that an attempt was being made to convince the people that in the matter of the birth of the princess royal, the Queen alone was to blame for all the disagreeable incidents attending it, their anger was extreme. The feeling for Lord Carteret was shown when Lord Hervey one day spoke of him with some commiseration—his son having run away from school, and there being no intelligence of him, except that he had formed a very improper marriage. ‘Why do you pity him?’ said the King to Lord Hervey: ‘I think it is a very just punishment, that, while he is acting the villainous part he does in debauching the minds of other people’s children, he should feel a little what it is to have an undutiful puppy of a son himself!’
Fierce, indeed, was the family feud, and undignified as fierce. The Princess Amelia is said to have taken as double-sided a line of conduct as Lord Carteret himself; for which she incurred the ill-will of both parties. The prince declared not only that he never would trust her again, but that, should he ever be reconciled with the King and Queen, his first care should be to inform them that she had never said so much harm of him to them as she had of them to him. The Princess Caroline was the more fierce partisan of the mother whom she loved, from the fact that she saw how her brother was endeavouring to direct the public feeling against the Queen. She was, however, as little dignified in her fierceness as the rest of her family. On one occasion, as Desnoyers, the dancing-master, had concluded his lesson to the young princesses, and was about to return to the prince, who made of him a constant companion, the Princess Caroline bade him inform his patron, if the latter should ever ask him what was thought of his conduct by her, that it was her opinion that he and all who were with him, except the Princess of Wales, deserved hanging. Desnoyers delivered the message, with the assurances of respect given by one who acquits himself of a disagreeable commission to one whom he regards. ‘How did the prince take it?’ asked Caroline, when next Desnoyers appeared at Hampton Court. ‘Well, madam,’ said the dancing-master, ‘he first spat in the fire, and then observed, “Ah, ah! Desnoyers; you know the way of that Caroline. That is just like her. She is always like that!”’ ‘Well, M. Desnoyers,’ remarked the princess, ‘when next you see him again, tell him that I think his observation is as foolish as his conduct.’
The exception made by the Princess Caroline of the Princess of Wales, in the censure distributed by the former, was not undeserved. She was the mere tool of her husband, who made no confidante of her, had not yet appreciated her, but kept her in the most complete ignorance of all that was happening around her, and much of which immediately concerned her. He used to speak of the office of wife in the very coarsest terms; and did not scruple to declare that he would not be such a fool as his father was, who allowed himself to be ruled and deceived by his consort.
In the meantime, he treated his mother with mingled contempt and hypocrisy. When, nine days after the birth of the little Princess Augusta, the Queen and her two daughters again visited the Princess of Wales, the prince, who met her at the door of the bedchamber, never uttered a single word during the period his mother remained in the room.
He was as silent to his sisters; but he was ‘the agreeable “rattle”’ with the members of the royal suite. The Queen remained an hour; and when she remarked that she was afraid she was troublesome, no word fell from the prince or princess to persuade her to the contrary. When the royal carriage had arrived to conduct her away, her son led her downstairs, and at the coach door, ‘to make the mob believe that he was never wanting in any respect, he kneeled down in the dirty street, and kissed her hand. As soon as this operation was over, he put her Majesty into the coach, and then returned to the steps of his own door, leaving his sisters to get through the dirt and the mob, by themselves, as they could. Nor did there come to the Queen any message, either from the prince or princess, to thank her afterwards for the trouble she had taken, or for the honour she had done them in this visit.’ This was the last time the mother and son met in this world. Horace Walpole well observes of the scene that it must have caused the Queen’s indignation to shrink into mere contempt.
The Queen’s wrath never subsided beyond a cold expression of forgiveness to the prince when she was on her death-bed; but she resolutely refused to see him when that solemn hour arrived, a few months subsequently. She was blamed for this; but her contempt was too deeply rooted to allow her to act otherwise to one who had done all he could to embitter the peace of his father. She sent to him, it is said, her blessing and pardon; ‘but conceiving the extreme distress it would lay on the King, should he thus be forced to forgive so impenitent a son, or to banish him if once recalled, she heroically preferred a meritorious husband to a worthless child.’[36]